


The Happy Tony Stark Fantasy

by Reremouse (TheBelfry)



Series: The Happy Tony Stark Project [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man 2 - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Okay - slight angst, Projecthappystark, happiness, unfallen Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2388380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBelfry/pseuds/Reremouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a dying guy to do?  If he's Tony Stark, he makes all the great decisions.  But sometimes, fate has a way of making a few great decisions on her own.  Tony rolls with it.</p><p>And Loki does not so much fall (okay, he totally drops out of the sky) as saunter vaguely downward.*</p><p>(*credit due to Gaiman and Pratchett, who turned that phrase memorably, also Crowley, who is memorable, but has nothing to do with this story.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Happy Tony Stark Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Colonelrogers' #projecthappystark on tumblr. First story in a two part series. I was assigned to create happy Iron Man 2 era Tony, and this happened. I also played a bit with the timeline of the original Thor events to move them up a month or two so they happen just before, instead of just after, IM2.
> 
> Theravenofwynter's prereading services were an invaluable contribution to the quality of this story. Thank you again for finding the time.

There are times when life doesn't go as planned. 

Not human plans, necessarily. They're all but made to go awry.

We're talking about the big plans.

Universal plans.

Fate, if you will.

Because chaos is the darnedest thing when it puts it's mind to something.

\--

"Oh." That's all Tony can think to say while looking at what was the man about to kill him. And Tony says "was" because now he's pretty much, well, paste. 

"Oh my god - that is disgusting!" Pepper stumbles a hasty step back after wiggling out of the remains of the town car and holds the collapsible armor in front of herself like a shield.

Tony's still stuck on the paste thing, because his brain is informing him that it's impossible for the guy who just landed on top of Crazy Guy to be alive. Much less climbing to his feet, however unsteadily, and brushing a hand over bloodied leather. 

"Oh," he says, and collapses in a pile of green, gold, and black at Tony's feet.

\--

"Tony," Pepper says with quiet urgency, one hand gripping the door frame, the other reluctantly letting go of the bottled waters Tony's relieving her of. "This is not a good idea."

"Great!" Tony says with a megawatt grin, shooing her out the door.

She will not be shooed, as if keeping her eyes on Tony's visitor will keep him out of trouble. "You can't just put him in your hotel room like this - you don't know anything about him!" 

"Sure I do," Tony assures her. "He saved my life. What more do I need to know?" And he's interesting. Guys don't just fall out of the sky like this every day in Tony's experience - unless they're him. Probably best not to make that case to Pepper. "Listen, I'm fine. Have Happy take you and Natalie to that restaurant you like. Charge it to Stark Industries."

"I'm the CEO, Tony. You can't tell me what to charge to Stark Industries anymore."

"Well there you go! Have the caviar." He eases her hand from the door frame and guides her by it into the hallway. "Treat the whole place." 

She grips Tony's arm before Tony can close the door in her face. "Did you know anything about this beforehand?"

It's kind of novel to be able to look Pepper in the eyes and tell her the unvarnished truth these days. Tony shrugs and shakes his head. "Nope. I can definitely say he wasn't part of today's plan."

"There was a plan?" Pepper's eyebrows rise. "A plan that involved racing a F1 on an international track and almost getting killed by an insane lunatic with some kind of electrowhip?"

Tony raises his hands. "To be fair, getting killed wasn't part of the plan, the electrowhip was super lame, and insane lunatic is redundant. I'd call him a homicidal lunatic."

Pepper looks neither impressed nor appeased.

"Seriously. Getting killed was really not part of today's plan." An option, sure, but it's not like he has a bullet point list these days with "die in fiery race car crash" penciled in after cocktail hour. That's kind of the point.

"Sometimes I wonder these days," Pepper says, watching him closely, concern plain on her face.

Tony gives her a half smile and shrugs again. What can he really say to that? "Still alive, right?" For now.

"Right," she says after a delay just too long. 

He gently removes her fingers from his arm and gives them a squeeze. "Go have fun. Show Natalie the world."

"She's seen more of the world than I have," Pepper's protesting when Tony finally closes the door between them and leans back on it.

Tony blows air out between his lips and rakes his fingers through his hair, surveying the situation. "Okay." 

One not-dead guy who fell from the sky in leather and armor sprawled out on his bed. No Pepper. Currently not dead himself. Potential assassin presumably being scraped off the racetrack by someone else.

As things go, hopping into that race car was not the worst life choice Tony's ever made. 

So Tony does what any other reasonable billionaire would do in his place. He picks up the phone and orders room service and Pay Per View.

He's idly eating a french fry when Not-Dead Guy shows signs of life on the bed, groaning and curling up around his ribs. " _Norns_." 

"Scotch on the bed stand," Tony says without looking at him. The great thing about dying-but-not-yet is this awesome freedom to just see what happens next. If it weren't for the inevitable looming death by palladium, it'd be the best thing that ever happened to him. 

"What is..." The mutter trails off with a clink, a quiet sniff, and the sound of a long stiff drink. Tony waits until he hears the guy flop back onto the bed with another heartfelt groan before turning away from the TV.

"So," Tony says with less recklessness than he could, "drop in around here often?"

The baleful glare he receives for his troubles is a little marred by the fact his guest can't seem to focus his eyes just yet. He mutters something that sounds vaguely Skandinavian and throws an arm over his face. Tony catches a word that sounds suspiciously like "father," in there a couple of times, though and the tone of voice? Well, that's universal.

He takes a long drink of chlorophyll and a wild guess. "Odin really needs to find a new schtick."

The guy's head snaps up, arm falling away to brace himself on the bed as if he's about to lunge. Escape or attack, Tony doesn't really know or care. See? Interesting.

Tony holds up his hands in surrender. "Or you might not be Asgardian at all. What do I know? I'm just a drunk guy making wild guesses." He is not, in point of fact, drunk. But he can play it for TV.

The guy flops back with a strained high-pitched giggle. "No," he manages between gasps. "And also yes. I am Nobody of Nowhere, burdened with no purpose at all." 

Tony's beginning to think he may have made a slight miscalculation leaving the bottle of scotch within the guy's reach when he picks it up and drinks straight from the bottle as if it was water. "Uh, how about we start with a name?"

"A name, yes," he mutters. "For even the All Father himself would not take my name." He takes another long slug and reclines, sprawling, into the bed's pillows. "Loki," he says simply. 

Which means he's right about the whole Asgardian thing, but also missing a metric fuck ton of information, and honestly, this is already the most fun he's had since auditioning the Ironettes. "Wouldn't happen to know a guy named Thor would you?" It's a stab in the not-quite-dark, but like Tony said, it's not every day a guy drops out of the sky and survives. In fact, the precedent is pretty limited.

Thor.

And now, apparently, Loki.

Asgardians. Go figure.

Tony's personal Asgardian closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath before saying with the kind of calm that comes right before a storm, "He was my brother." Catching the expression on Tony's face, he adds, "Oh, he's quite alive." The smile he levels at Tony is not particularly pleasant. "And no kin of mine."

Never let it be said that Tony can't add two plus two and come up with family issues. "Well," he says. "Since you're here, and apparently my guest..." He swings the wheeled room service cart around to sit between his chair and the bed. "Hungry?"

Loki looks from the food to Tony's face, eyes narrow and assessing. "Famished," he says at last, all traces of suspicion and Tragic Backstory vanishing as if the entire conversation before hadn't happened.

And he's not lying about the famished thing. He doesn't say another word as he eats, and Tony calls room service two more times (hey, a guy's gotta have dessert) before Loki slows and leans away from the cart, idly nibbling a florentine. 

He's still wearing the bloodied clothes, which Tony feels like he should be objecting to more than he is, but it's not like there's a spare change of clothing in the dresser for the guy. He does look a lot less like he's going to keel over if he stands up, though. 

"Have you a name?" Loki asks, licking a bit of chocolate off his thumb. It's distracting. 

"Tony," Tony says after a moment. "Tony Stark." He can't even remember the last time he had to genuinely introduce himself to someone. 

"Thank you, Tony, Tony Stark," Loki says with a smile that says he's parroting Tony's words only for the fun of it, " for your hospitality." He pushes himself off the bed and looks down at himself in obvious distaste. "I would bathe now," he says, like someone used to having his requests fulfilled.

Not that Tony's particularly used to fulfilling requests like that himself, but he guesses the novelty hasn't worn off yet. It's not every day an atheist gets a god in his hotel room. "Sure, okay. Right through here. I'll show you how to work the taps."

He leaves Loki to his own devices and his own straps and buckles, because he'll draw a bath for the guy, but he draws the line at helping him out of gore-encrusted clothes. Bluntly put, he stinks, and the idea of scrubbing eau de rotting villain out from under his fingernails doesn't really appeal.

Tony busies himself with having the room service carts cleared away and phoning the concierge for a wardrobe in a few different sizes for a guy about 6'2". 

The clothes are there before Loki emerges from the bath in a cloud of steam. It's a classy hotel, and a good concierge never asks the high rollers too many questions. There's even a tux.

Loki stops short in the bathroom doorway, wrapped in a towel, staring at the clothes on the bed. Tony waves a hand. "Help yourself. Didn't know what you'd want to wear."

He ignores the quick half-wary glance in his direction, but watches Loki curiously hold up one garment and then the next, and then disappear back into the bathroom with a bundle of black clothing.

Tony flips the channel and watches Nova. The Ever Expanding Universe.

Wasn't that the truth. He picks up his Starkpad for a bit of idle Googling, only setting it aside once the door snicks open.

This time, Loki enters the room in a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved henley, barefoot. Tony tosses him a comb, and Loki snatches it out of the air faster than Tony can blink. He knows for a fact because he did. Blink. 

And when he opened his eyes again, Loki was frowning intently while working the comb through a tangle. "This hospitality," he says eventually, with less hesitance than Tony might have expected, "does it come at any particular cost?" 

"No strings," Tony says. There might've been strings, or at least an offer of strings once, but palladium poisoning does wonders for killing the libido. 

Loki looks surprised. And something else Tony wants to identify as disappointed, but he's allowed his imagination. Leave a dying guy his happy fantasies. "Why?" Loki asks.

"You're interesting," Tony says. "And, technically, you probably saved my life. So I owe you one."

Loki cocks his head to the side. "The second is a lie." He sits down once more on the bed, working through the rest of his tangled hair with an uncomfortable sound of breakage with each pull. Tony wonders if he should mention conditioner as a thing. "Is your life in danger regularly?"

Tony laughs at that. He can't help it because - well, really. "My life is always in danger. Haven't you heard of Iron Man where you're from?"

"No," Loki says, looking Tony over. "I see no iron."

Tony jerks a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the case. "Metaphorically speaking. Technically, my armor's a gold-titanium alloy." 

Loki's eyebrows rise at that. "As is mine. I was not aware Midgardians had yet achieved that level of technology."

"Excuse you." Tony snorts. "I'm not just any Midgardian." 

"I'm beginning to see that." Loki sets aside the comb once his hair is all neatly slicked back and takes another florentine from the plate beside the bed, eating it with no particular hurry. 

"So, Loki," Tony says with a bit more emphasis on the name. "God of mischief, herald of Ragnorok, winner of Sexiest Horse Ever..."

Loki snorts at the last and chews his cookie. Very slowly. Very thoroughly. And holding Tony's eyes in a way that makes Tony hold his breath. "No," he says at last. 

"No? I hate to break it to you, buddy, but there's a whole Wikipedia article on you," he says, just to see what Loki will do. It's a thing. That he does now, apparently. 

"I see," he says, cocking his head. "It seems your Wikipedia is greatly out of date." 

"It got more scandalous after the horse and we don't know about it?" Tony feigns a gasp and clutches his chest. 

Loki waits for Tony to finish the drama before answering, "I was named after him."

"The horse?"

"Loki. Ragnorok has come and gone, Tony Stark. And that Loki had lived at Odin's side for millennia, sometimes foe, sometimes bosom friend. The All Father alone survived that icy end to all things." Loki's smile turns bitter. "I had thought I was named after him to honor what friendship they once shared. But I have seen, of late, that my assumption was incorrect." He shakes his head. "I am scarcely more than a thousand of your human years old, and those stories have existed in your world far longer than that."

Because Tony has never been all that great at social niceties or letting someone change the subject on him before he's gotten all his answers, he asks, "Why were you named after him, then?"

"For ice," Loki intones, "and ruin."

And that's getting a little too close to over-serious territory for Tony's tastes, so he says, "Should I be disappointed you're not really the God of Mischief?"

"Now," Loki says, with a return of that small amused smile, "I didn't say that."

Tony deliberately leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "And what if I don't believe you?"

"Your belief is not required." Loki narrows his eyes. 

"But you want it," Tony can't resist saying with a smirk. "Go ahead." He waves a hand. "Do something godly."

"You may regret you ever asked that, Tony Stark," Loki says and stands, flexing his fingers. He looks around him and then waves an arm in a grand gesture at the bed.

Nothing happens. 

"Well, I've been called a god in bed, too. That doesn't necessarily mean anyth-kk!" Tony clutches at the fingers clenched around his throat, trying to pry them loose.

He concedes that, maybe, this show of strength is good enough to believe Loki is who he says he is. That, and surviving the fall out of a clear blue sky while turning the guy he landed on into human jam.

Loki waves his hand again, and again, nothing happens other than a few desperate gurgles out of Tony. "No. He cannot have!" His fingers flex on Tony's neck, and Tony scrabbled urgently at them until Loki drops him all at once.

He falls back into his chair, panting and trying to ignore the roughness in his voice. "Who what, now?"

Loki spins to take in the room, empty except for the two of them, and then lifts his head to face the ceiling, teeth bared. "Odin," he seethes, "in his infinite wisdom, has seen fit to strip me of my powers to teach me a lesson." 

Tony rubs his throat. "I'm a pretty good teacher," he offers. 

Loki favors him with a look of mingled amusement and terror-inducing craziness. "You would teach me the value of restraining my impulses? Of accepting the wisdom of my elders? I think not."

Tony has to admit he's got him there. He gives Loki an apologetic half smile. "You're not wrong."

Loki huffs and turns to stare unseeingly at the muted television. "And so it would seem that I am stuck here until the All Father decides I have learned the error of my ways."

"Could be worse," Tony says with a half shrug and the most epic bad idea of all bad ideas ever. When Loki glances his way with a raised eyebrow, Tony explains, "I've got more money than I know what to do with and I'm feeling generous."

"You would have me stay with you while I am banished to Midgard?" Loki doesn't sound put off by the notion, at least. And Tony knows a calculated look when he gets one. 

"Let's put it this way," he says. "You ever been to Italy?"

They go to Italy, above Pepper's objections and without Happy. Tony just buys a car, checks out of the hotel, and hits the Autostrada dei Fiori. Five hours later, they're in Florence.

Loki's spent most of that time staring out the window and working up a good fury, occasionally muttering darkly at the clear sky above them. As conversations go, it's not the most stimulating discussion Tony's ever had on the road, but the drive and the roadster are enough to keep Tony happily entertained until Loki rejoins the land of the verbose. 

It happens once the Florentine bellboy sets down their bags, collects a hefty tip from Tony, and shuts the door behind them. 

"The device you used to gather information about me in the other hotel," Loki says, "what was it?" 

Tony's a little disappointed Loki didn't spend any time appreciating their very expensive and elegantly appointed suite, but the guy's apparently an alien prince, so Tony figures he can let that one go. "Starkpad," he says and fishes so it out of his shoulder bag. He turns it on and hands it over. 

Loki turns it over in his hands. "And this contains all the information in your world?"

"Uh, not exactly. It connects to the internet." Tony's pretty sure Loki's never heard of that either, so he adds, "and that contains most of the information in our world. Along with a lot of bullshit."

Loki raises his eyebrows at that and folds himself comfortably onto the deep blue sofa without so much as a glance toward the window in the next room or the undeniably spectacular view. "Show me how it works." 

It is not, Tony notes, a request. And that shouldn't make him smile, but it does. "Why not?"

Once Loki's got the hang of Google, Tony steps out onto the terrace overlooking the Arno and pulls out his phone.

"Good afternoon, Sir," Jarvis greets him as soon as he has the phone to his ear. 

"Hey, J. Has Pepper sent out a search team yet?" 

"Not as yet, sir, but she threatened to do so in her last three messages." 

"How many messages has she left?"

"Twelve since this morning, sir." There's a click on the line and Jarvis corrects himself, "Thirteen, sir." 

"Anything I need to know about?" 

"Only that she requests you call her within the next thirty minutes if you do not wish to be declared a missing person." 

Tony laughs and drags over a chair, sitting down and propping his feet on the railing. "Put me through to her, will you?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Tony!" 

"Pepper!" Tony echoes in the same tone. 

"This isn't funny, Tony! Where are you?" 

Tony toes off his shoes and puts his feet back up on the balcony bare to the warm sun. "Florence." 

"Florence." Her tone is more disbelieving than it should be because - really - she's known him how long, now? "Florence Italy, Florence." 

"That's the one. Did you know it's only five hours by car from Monaco?" 

"Five and a half," Pepper corrects him. 

"So I was driving slow and enjoying the view." Tony can't help but smile at the expression he knows she's wearing. "Listen, Pep, everything is fine. I'm just taking a little vacation."

"Monaco was a little vacation."

"And then Hammer showed up. What kind of a vacation is it with Justin Hammer around?" Tony wiggles his toes. "I'm taking a vacation from my vacation." 

"You - ". He can hear her take a deep breath before she finishes that thought. "You have responsibilities, Tony. You have a company to run. You can't just take off like this whenever you want to."

"Pretty sure I can," he says, and his smile is genuine. "Besides, you're the one with the company to run and all the responsibilities Now. I'm categorically irresponsible. Everyone agrees." 

"I can't believe you." 

He hears a disappointed note in her voice he hasn't heard in a long time, and it makes him feel just a little guilty. A little. 

"You're just giving up like that?"

"Who's giving up?" Tony feels justified in protesting that one. She may not know about the palladium poisoning, but it's not giving up for a man to want to enjoy his last weeks of life. "Pepper, I promise you everything is fine. I'm going to stay here for a while, soak up the Mediterranean sun, and then I'll be back." 

"Will you?" 

Probably.

Maybe.

"Would I lie to you?" He asks instead. 

"Yes." 

Tony wrinkles his nose and watches a gondola float a pair of tourists under the bridge. "You're right. I should work on that."

He listens to her silence on the other end and pictures her drumming her fingers. She drums her fingers when she's trying to figure out how to bring something up with him. "And the mystery guy?" 

Tony glances into the suite to find Loki looking back at him. For a moment, Tony considers telling the truth. But then Pepper would come up with at least three good reasons why this was a bad idea even by his standards, and Tony's having too much fun to let himself be talked out of it. "That was pretty crazy, wasn't it?" He says. "Not every day a guy just drops out of the sky. It's kind of like the Wizard of Oz when you think of it." Tony pauses to grin at Loki, "Although he was a little tall for Dorothy."

"What?"

"You know. 'Begone! Before somebody drops a guy on you!'" 

"Tony," Pepper says tiredly. 

"What? It's a valid pop cultural reference for a genuinely weird experience."

Pepper groans. "Goodbye, Tony. Just... Be careful?" 

"I'm always careful," Tony says with the cavalier attitude that only comes from years of being thoroughly reckless. He hangs up the phone to find Loki standing just inside the doorway, out of the sun, holding the Starkpad. 

"I look nothing like this Dorothy." 

"No," Tony has to agree, "but you did drop down on my own personal Wicked Witch like an avenging angel out of Kansas." 

Loki, it appears, chooses to ignore that one. "You would do well to forget everything you learned of me from this Wikipedia of yours," he says instead.

"That inaccurate?" 

Loki hesitates before answering, a broken look flickering over his face. "That Loki is not me." 

"Victim of bad PR, huh?" Tony can understand that one well enough. 

"He was not remembered fondly," Loki says after another moment of watching the river flow by. "And there were few, even in Asgard, who saw me as I am as a result." 

Which only serves to make Tony more curious. "So who are you?" He lets Loki make of the question whatever he wants and is surprised when, after an assessing silence, Loki answers with: 

"I am my brother's shadow." He sets down the Starkpad to clasp his hands, one thumb rubbing absently against the other wrist. "And his conscience, not that anyone but mother ever realized it." His smile is definitely back in the bitter territory, and Tony guesses he can't blame him from what little he's managed to glean so far. "I am at once Asgard's most skilled seiðrmann and the monster that lurks under her beds. I would once have done anything for Asgard and her people."

"But now?" Tony prompts when the silence stretches on a little too long. 

Loki lifts a shoulder and let's it drop. "What help would she want from a monster?" 

That seems to be all he's willing to say on the subject, but Tony has never been accused of ignoring his curiosity. "This monster thing..." He ignores Loki's warning look, too. "I've gotta say you don't seem all that monstrous." 

"You do not know," is all Loki replies, and it looks like the subject is closed for the time being. "How accurate is your PR on Wikipedia, Tony?" He asks without a trace of awkwardness on the new words.

"Eh." Tony rocks a hand back and forth. "It's what I want people to see." 

"That was not my question," Loki says with a shrewdness Tony can respect. 

"The parts are all me," Tony admits. "It's just the proportions I fuck around with. It's a lot more glamorous being a jet-setting playboy than a stupidly wealthy grease monkey." 

If Loki is unfamiliar with any of those terms, he doesn't show it. "So you consider yourself more the grease monkey."

"Don't forget the stupidly wealthy part," Tony says, pointedly looking around their suite. "I mean, this isn't exactly the Motel 6." 

"How could I possibly forget it," Loki says with the unimpressed tone only royalty can manage when it comes to Tony's wealth. 

Tony grins. "Don't worry. We'll work on it and before you know it, you'll be taking all this for granted." He ignores the implicit invitation and Loki's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I've put in the effort to claim the jet setting playboy label. But it's only fun and games for a decade or so before it starts to get old." Or he starts to get old. He shrugs it off. 

The one good thing about all of this is that Tony Stark will never get old. He'll go out being handsome and in his prime. 

"It got old?" 

"Meh," Tony says, shrugging. "I'm happier in my garage, honestly." He's surprised to realize that it's true. And has been since, well, Afghanistan. He likes to be alone. Ish. He's not questioning why Loki's an exception. Loki's just new. Novel. Interesting. He hasn't been this interested in something he didn't build in ages.

"I saw footage of you as the Iron Man," Loki says, and Tony wishes he could tell if Loki was impressed. He wants Loki to be impressed. 

"What did you think?" Tony kind of wonders which footage it was. 

"Singularly destructive," Loki says, which doesn't narrow it down a lot. A little. But not a lot. He's smiling, though, and that has to be a good sign. "And not one to suffer bullies and fools, I think." 

"You've got that right," Tony agrees. 

"But not wantonly destructive." Now Loki's smile is a little strange, but Tony, for once, makes the right decision and doesn't ask. "There is an elegance to it that I can admire." 

"The destruction or the suit?" 

Loki huffs out a laugh and looks across the river. "Both." 

"Right," Tony reminds himself. "God of chaos." 

"There is a difference between chaos and destruction, as I have been recently reminded," Loki corrects him before closing his eyes and turning his head away. It occurs to Tony that Loki said something earlier about being sent to earth without his powers as a punishment until he learned his lesson. 

He wants to ask, he really does. But he's just not ready to be That Guy. "I used to specialize in wholesale destruction," Tony offers. "The rest is newish." He rubs his palms on his jeans. "Just saying, a guy can change." 

"But can he redeem himself?" Loki asks, and Tony would bet he's not expecting an answer, but Tony has never been one to do the expected thing. 

"I'll get back to you on that one when I've got an answer." Tony pushes his toes into the warm railing and tips his chair back on two legs. "Redemption's overrated."

"Then what is it you're trying to accomplish?" Loki's staring at Tony's feet like they're fascinating. 

Tony gives it some thought and flexes his toes on the metal. "Fixing what I broke."

"Some things cannot be fixed." A hunted expression flickers over Loki's face and is gone as quickly as the others. 

"Well, no," Tony agrees, "not fixed in the sense of making everything like it was. But there's always the possibility of making everything better."

"And that is what you do?" 

"I'm trying to." It should be weird, being this honest, this open, with a guy he's just met. But it's not, and Tony's inclined to go with it. Not every day that an honest to god god drops into your life. Tony almost feels like it's an opportunity to be taken advantage of. Besides, Loki's decent company. 

Tony's reminder beeps and he swears under his breath, pushing himself up out of the chair. "Gotta do a thing," he says. "Be right back." 

Loki watches him curiously, but doesn't ask, and Tony's glad, because he's actually enjoying this break from reality and pretending everything's completely normal. 

The device beeps and Tony shakes his hand before sticking his finger in his mouth. Blood toxicity 72%. 

Hell with it.

Tony walks back out onto the balcony, draws back his arm, and pitches the blood toxicity meter over the railing, watching until it splashes into the Arno. He wipes his pricked finger on his jeans and realizes Loki is staring at him. 

He offers a winning smile and gestures grandly. "You know what rich Americans do in Italy, Loki?"

"Senselessly discard small electronic devices into the nearest body of water?" Loki guesses with a straight face. 

"No. That part's all me." Tony leans back on the railing and tips his head up toward the sun. "We go out on the town and make complete asses of ourselves." 

Loki makes a noise of distaste. "I have had my fill of drunken carousing, thank you." 

"Hey, there's more ways to make a complete ass of yourself than carousing," Tony objects. 

"Oh?"

And that's how they find themselves sitting at an outdoor cafe on the Piazza Della Repubblica watching the tourists go by, one sunburnt face at a time. Loki, Tony notes with some amusement, fades further into the shade of their table umbrella with each one.

"Your kind do this to relax?" Loki asks eventually, after a pair of harried English parents herd their three sweaty, complaining children past the cafe for the second time, arguing over who lost the map.

"Just to relax? Come on, this is the trip of a lifetime for most of them." Tony takes a sip of his third glass of white wine. He'll order another bottle eventually. "You don't relax on trips of a lifetime. You keep going until you drag your sunburnt ass back home and show up for work wishing you had another week off.

Loki looks dubious about humanity's survival instincts. "Surely there are preferable destinations, at least."

"Sure, if this isn't your thing. Most people come here for the art and history." 

"History?" Loki's lips twist in a mixture of amusement and disdain. "What cares a being who lives less than a century for events of half a millennia ago?" 

Tony gives it some thought before answering, seeing as he's answering for his entire species and everything. "Continuity," he concludes eventually, "I guess. We don't live long enough to experience this much change personally, so we connect to the past the only way we can." 

"But why dwell on the past when the future is all you have?" The question sounds more weighted than the topic warrants, so Tony answers carefully. 

"There's a saying here on Earth that all major discoveries are made by men standing on the shoulders of the greats who came before." Tony refills his wine glass. "Everyone needs a place to stand." He glances sideways at Loki. "Even you, I'll bet." 

Loki looks away across the piazza at a dog chasing pigeons and says, almost too quietly for Tony to understand him. "More than you know."

"Want to go find a few greats to stand on?" Tony tosses the wine back at one go, ignoring the dirty look he gets from the sommelier.

"I have my doubts that your so-called greats will have much to impress me with after a thousand years in Asgard." Loki sniffs. Honest to god sniffs his disdain. 

Tony hides a laugh. "Oh, come on. At least you can come be impressed by the sheer level of our stupidity. I give you full permission to mock us."

"And what is your permission worth?"

"Not much in this case," Tony admits. "But it'll make it more fun listening to your Puny Mortal spiel."

Loki frowns at him and folds his arms over his chest again. "I have no such spiel."

"Seriously?"

Loki nods. 

"That's just wrong." Tony throws a thick handful of euros down on the table and stands up. "What are they teaching you kids in god school these days?" 

"The art of surprise," Loki answers easily, drinking down the last of his espresso and shutting his eyes in bliss. "I admit, your coffee comes very close to impressing me."

"Italian coffee comes close to impressing me," Tony says. "Just don't try the swill they pass off in most of America. It'll destroy all your fantasies and leave you broken and longing for Italy."

Loki only raises his eyebrows. Whether it's because he understood none of that or because he has nothing to say, Tony will never know. "Introduce me to these greats," Loki commands, and Tony would bet real money he's doing the imperious thing on purpose. Maybe Florence is rubbing off on his inner Prince. 

"You want greats? I'll give you a great." 

And that's how they end up spending the afternoon in Florence touring the history of human science. Because when you want to impress with the greats, you go with what you know.

It takes the better part of the afternoon, but Loki is impressed. 

"And he used no magic, you say?" Loki asks again, fixating on the turning point of his own opinion of da Vinci as they exit into the overcast evening.

"I could've built all of that," Tony says, slightly put out by Loki's decision to fanboy a guy who died over 500 years ago when he's got a real live certified supergenius inventor walking right next to him. He'd wanted Loki impressed, not infatuated. "And all of mine would've worked, too." 

"His would have worked with magic," Loki points out.

"Yeah, well you can even fly a broom if you've got enough magic, I hear."

Loki stops short to stare at him. "Why would anyone want to fly a broom?" 

Tony shrugs. "Beats me. I think it has something to do with ingrained misogyny and general human xenophobia. You'd have to ask Pepper." 

Loki gives him another of those looks that Tony is beginning to recognize as his 'how have your kind survived all these millennia?' expression.

"I take it Asgard is an egalitarian utopia," Tony snarks, because, of course, it would be. 

He's surprised, however, by Loki's sudden burst of genuine laughter. "Norns, you must be joking." Loki snickers into his hand, trying to stop laughing without success. "Asgard is it's own particular hell of machismo."

"Tough to be a woman in Asgard, huh?"

Loki snorts. "At times. I find the native Asgardian women who are so inclined to participate in warrior culture are the most unforgivingly macho of all." He runs his fingers over a railing as they pass. "My mother, the queen, is of Vanaheim. Would that more of Asgard followed her example rather than Odin's. "

"I never took you for sexist," Tony comments offhand because he's aware of his own glass house there.

Loki's lips curve. "I never said only Asgardian women should follow her example." When Tony just stares at him, trying to work that one out, he continues, "my mother is a skilled seiðkona. She could fell a battalion with a wave of her hand should she choose to do so."

They walk in silence for a time while Tony chews that over. "Is that a Vanaheim thing?"

Loki shakes his head. "Aesir have the ability. But it is Ergi." 

"Come again?"

"It unmans one." Loki's eyes flick over Tony in a way he has more interest in than a dying guy should. And he's clearly hallucinating. "It is a discipline for women only."

Instead of going there, he heads in a different direction. "I never did get the meathead belief that you're not really fighting unless you're putting yourself in personal danger."

"You seemed to be in some jeopardy when I arrived."

"You remember that?" The words are out of Tony before he can stop them on the vague possibility that falling out of the sky might be a bad memory for Loki.

"Everything up to the landing," Loki admits with a grimace. 

Without thinking about it, Tony slings a companionable arm around Loki's waist and gives him a pat. "Yeah, I know. The falling's never all that bad, but the landing is a bitch." 

"Just so," Loki says after a moment of what might be surprise in which they both realize where Tony's arm is. 

Loki doesn't pull away.

So Tony leaves his arm where it is. 

"That particular personal jeopardy wasn't my idea, you know." Tony says a little further down the street. "And you did kind of drop in before I could put on my armor."

"Your armor is most impressive," Loki agrees. "Perhaps I will have another chance to witness it in action."

"Be careful what you wish for. I tend not to walk around in it unless I'm being attacked or trying to impress people."

"Were you not trying to impress me?" Loki asks with a perfectly straight face. 

"Yeah. Sure. Up until you decided to throw me over for old Leo." The hurt is feigned. The flirting, to his surprise, is entirely real. Tony examines it for half a minute and then shrugs it off. Why not? He's dying. He can do whatever the hell he wants with his last days and no court would convict him. Tony will flirt with all the gods if he wants to.

Especially gods who look him over like that, because he can't honestly remember the last time he felt real sexual interest. He's got no clue about the follow-through at this point in his downward spiral, but he's putting this one in the 'worth it' column even if all he gets out of it is a cheap thrill. "You do have a certain recklessly youthful charm he lacks," Loki says once he's looking Tony in the eye again.

Tony's not sure whether to be offended or flattered all to hell. "Nobody's accused me of being youthful in at least five years. Immature, sure. But youthful nev-"

He's cut off by the press of lips on his and clutches at Loki's waist in his surprise. 

"This is sudden," he gasps when he can breathe, standing there in Loki's space with his hands against a cool chest and equally chill arms wrapped around him. The arms start to loosen, and Tony makes a quick grab to keep them right where they are. "Hey now, let's not be hasty."

Loki regards him with clear wariness, but he does not remove his arms. 

Tony decides to throw caution and good sense to the wind and pulls Loki down to kiss him again until they're both breathless. "That was good," Tony says, in case it's not clear. 

Loki gives him a look like he's an idiot, so he guesses it was plenty clear. Loki is not, however, looking wary anymore. 

Tony's trying to figure out a way to invite Loki back to the suite that's not smarmy or cashing checks his libido might not be able to pay when the overcast sky chooses that moment to open wide and drench them to the skin. 

"Goddamn," Tony sputters, wiping rain out of his eyes and shading them with one hand. It only makes chill rainwater slither down his spine, and his clothes are already starting to stick, but Loki's eyes are wide with shock, and his lips are still parted. His hair is plastered to his face and over his shoulders, and Tony coughs on rain right before he starts laughing because the walk home is going to suck, sure, but this is ridiculous.

Loki swipes his hair out of his face, giving it three quick twists and jamming a stolen Museo Galileo ball point pen through the mass of it. "Not a word, Tony Stark." He pushes a fallen lock behind his ear. It drips.

"Couldn't've formed words if I tried." Tony's still grinning and his seduction plans are shot all to hell, because he's well aware Loki's not the only one looking like a drowned cat with water squelching out of his shoes, and he acknowledges it's probably for the best. "So, I happen to know a guy who's got a nice warm, dry hotel suite with a borderline awe inspiring tub and shower." 

"Are you inviting me to share them with you?" Loki asks in a low voice, and Tony feels another ba-bump skip behind the arc reactor. 

"And here I was trying to be the suave guy and figure out how to proposition you without sounding corny," Tony says, pitched just above the rain, which isn't getting any less wet, but at least it's giving them an illusion of privacy as everyone with sense runs for awnings and indoors.

"I find the direct approach works best," Loki advises, laying a tentative hand on Tony's chest.

"You know what?" Tony takes his hand and tugs him in the direction of their hotel. "It really does work." 

Loki's smile can only be described as smug. "I know. So, that was an invitation?" 

"That was an invitation," Tony confirms, ignoring the little part of him that demands to know what the hell he thinks he's doing. He's got it outvoted anyway. 

A clear majority of Tony Stark is all aboard and strapped in for the ride. 

And ride appears to be the operative word when Loki hoists him up once they cross the threshold of the suite, putting them eye to eye when he leans in to press their lips together again. All Tony can really do is wrap his arms and legs around Loki and roll with it. Chasing a teasing tongue with his own and throwing his head back against the wall when Loki's lips move to his throat. 

Licking the rainwater from his skin. Tony shivers, and it's got only about 7% due to the cold and wet and 93% down to the god who's scraping teeth over the join of shoulder and neck.

Tony clenches his fingers in Loki's hair. Because it's good, really good, and he's hoping like hell Loki doesn't get the wrong message out of the fact Tony's only half hard. "Hah- how about that shower?" He puts his effort into breathing again until Loki lifts his head and looks quizzically into his eyes. 

His eyes flicker down to Tony's neck for a moment but he doesn't put Tony down. Just turns on his heel, carrying Tony straight into the shower as if he weighed nothing with a grin Tony doesn't like the looks of. 

Tony yelps as the shower heads turn on, soaking them all over again, the water going from warm on chill skin all the way up to almost unbearably hot. He groans. His clothes are sticking to him all over and feel like they weigh a ton when Loki sets him on his feet at last, but he doesn't care. 

"You did say you wanted a shower, did you not?" Loki asks, and the bastard's not even trying to hide his laughter now. 

Tony shoves him against the wall, but Loki only laughs more, shaking the hair out of his eyes and going easily. "Very funny." 

"I think so." Loki runs his hands down Tony's sodden arms, plucking at the hem of his shirt, and Tony's suddenly conscious enough of the creeping black tracery over his chest that that's not what he wants right now. 

He slips from Loki's grasp, sliding to his knees and doesn't miss the catch in Loki's breath. 

Looking up through his eyelashes, he's got a good view of one very turned on god. 

And since Tony's in the business of making all the bad decisions lately (especially when they're really great bad decisions), he slides his palms up Loki's thighs and leans forward to mouth him through wet denim, sucking the water out of the fabric as he goes. 

The noise Loki makes is all the encouragement Tony needs to tug at the button with his teeth. He's not going to be unbuttoning it with his teeth anytime soon, but it's the idea that counts, and Loki appears to agree, closing his eyes and breathing heavily while Tony finishes the job with his hands and slides Loki into his mouth. "Ah - fuck!" Loki bites off the words and Tony hears the wet slap of Loki's shirt hitting the floor, and long fingers wind their way into his hair, massaging at his scalp and clenching when Tony pulls off with suction that's got to come close to hurting.

Loki's trembling just enough for Tony to feel under his palms and a blind thrust leaves a slick trail across Tony's stubble. Tony can't risk mouthing at him around a wide grin. "Been a while?" 

"Stop killing the mood," Loki answers hoarsely, though the tension in his fingers does the answering for him.

"Yeah," Tony answers the fingers, lips brushing right up against Loki. "Me too," he says, deciding there's always later for slow and full of finesse. Right now, he's more interested in taking a god apart and hearing the noise he makes when he comes.

The noise, as it turns out, is spectacularly human. As is Loki when he slides to his knees between Tony and the wall, panting. 

Tony's gotten rid of Loki's shoes and socks and worked the wet skinny jeans off his legs. (A learning experience he will not be recommending to anyone.) 

He's lathering Loki up with whatever expensive froufrou body wash was in the shower when he finds his voice again. "If you will be so kind as to give me a moment to catch my breath, I will be more than happy to return the favor." Loki's head falls forward and he fixes Tony with a look that could probably wake the dead. 

The dying? Eh, little more difficult, but A+ for effort. Tony grins and grabs the hand sprayer, rinsing him off. "Paid in full," he lies. Okay, sort of lies, because that was still an experience he would gladly repeat. It's got him tingling in all the right places, anyway.

Loki looks skeptical, but he allows Tony to maneuver him to his feet. It's when Tony reaches up to wash Loki's hair that he feels his t-shirt pulled up, and before he can do anything to stop it, it joins Loki's on the floor. Tony reaches for it fruitlessly. "Hey. Seriously. I've got it-"

"Please," Loki says, one hand against his collarbone, just sitting there. "I insist." 

Tony folds his arms across his chest as if he could hide the tracery of black lines that way and finds it suddenly a lot harder to look right at Loki. The way Loki's finger trails up the right side of his neck tells him all he needs to know about the futility of that. What can he say? He hasn't really looked in the he mirror since Monaco.

He doesn't plan to look now. Loki rubs a line under the water with his thumb. "It doesn't rub off." 

"It's under the skin," Tony says, voice tight. "Palladium." 

Loki looks at him curiously, head tipped to one side. "Why?"

It's the big question, isn't it? Tony can only shrug. "Kept me alive this long."

Loki's hands leave him abruptly and Tony misses them. "How much longer?"

Tony shrugs again and starts scrubbing himself down! wiggling out of his shoes! socks! and jeans when he gets to them. He'll order up more clothes from the concierge. "You know what this conversation needs?"

"I'm not certain I dare to ask."

Tony snaps off the water once he's done. "Room service," he says with finality. "I categorically refuse to have this conversation on an empty stomach."

But he does have the conversation over room service. Some kind of butter garlic seafood Loki appears to like. It's weirdly freeing telling the story to a guy he's barely met.

And that, of course, is the part Loki seems stuck on, eyebrows knit in an expression of concern. "I do not understand. If you have only weeks to live, why spend them with me? You have family. Friends..." Loaded words coming from Loki, who's lost all that.

He licks a trace of sauce off his knife. "I guess I just want to do whatever I want to do with whoever I want to do it with." He offers Loki a small smile. "Lucky you. You're the whoever."

"But why?"

"You're interesting," Tony says. "I like that about you. And anyway. It's almost my birthday. I don't want to have some boring old party and do the exact same thing I do every year. I intend to celebrate in the style to which I have become accustomed." 

"Nearly getting yourself killed?" Loki asks, deadpan.

"Ha ha. Funny guy." Tony points his fork at Loki before going in for another piece of shrimp. "No. We're going to spend my birthday in Venice. I intend to turn 39 floating on a gondola while you feed me strawberries dipped in the finest French champagne."

Loki's eyebrows are climbing with each word. 

"Or, you know, scaring the mice out of the walls somewhere with a spectacular view while we fuck," Tony adds, because hey, that's always an option, too.

Loki gives a snort. "I will do my utmost to accommodate your wish." He sets aside his food and cards a finger through Tony's damp hair. "So all of this," he gestures between the two of them, "is because you're dying and have nothing to lose?" 

Tony feels a pang of the regret he's been refusing to let himself indulge in and smiles a twisted little smile. "No. This was just great luck with terrible timing. I really am sorry about that." 

Loki's fingers hesitate a moment before continuing. It feels nice. "I should be the one who's sorry. If I had my magic, I could heal you." 

"You don't even know what's wrong with me."

"I don't need to," Loki says, but doesn't elaborate. It's a depressing topic, and Loki seems to be climbing on board for the Happy Tony Stark Project one evasion at a time. 

"Just lousy timing," Tony says with a shrug. 

"Terrible." 

"The worst," Tony says, leaning into Loki's space.

"Well," Loki says against his lips, "there are some perks..." 

There continue to be perks.

There continue to be perks, conversation, good food, and, surprisingly, even an argument two days before Tony's birthday, which Loki wins.

"I'd rather drive," Tony grumbles, watching as their luggage is loaded onto the bellhop's trolley and wondering when had Loki acquired more luggage than he had.

Loki glances at him with a tiny smile and then tips generously from - wait, what? 

"That's my wallet!"

"Is it?" Loki looks down at it in apparent surprise. "It is!" The wallet disappears into his inner coat pocket. "I'd best hold onto it for you so you don't lose it again." 

Tony's so speechless, he doesn't even protest when Loki holds the door and ushers him into the town car. 

Loki seems to be enjoying himself so much at playing human that, by the time they're flying over Switzerland, Tony's pretty much convinced that Loki talked him into spending his birthday in the "Venice of the North" instead of regular old Venice just so that he could experience flying in a plane like a mere mortal.

"It's remarkable, what humans have accomplished since Asgard last withdrew," Loki says to the window, watching the Alps pass below, and doing nothing to change Tony's suspicions about his motives.

Tony honestly doesn't get what's the big deal. As planes go, this hired private jet isn't really anything to write home to Asgard about in Tony's opinion. "We've got a lot better than this, you know." 

Loki twists to see him directly, eyes crinkling at the edges with humor. 

"What?" 

"A god tells you he is impressed by the innovative spirit of your mortal race, and all you can do is protest that 'it's nothing.' You are either the most arrogant or the most idealistic individual I have met in years."

"It's not arrogance if you can back it up," Tony insists, although privately he suspects Loki has a point. But he's firmly back in going with the flow mode now, because what will any of this matter in a month?

Also, it's worth going with the flow when the flow is guided by a Norse god with an affinity for picking up on earth technology and finding new and exciting uses for Tony's credit cards. 

"Marvelous invention," he catches Loki murmuring more than once while spending Tony's plastic money. He's ready to half expect a chorus line of dancers greeting them in their suite once they get to Amsterdam, but he's willing to let go of the fantasy because Loki managed to nail Tony's birthday request right on the head. 

"Are those strawberries?" Tony catches a glimpse of red on the bedside table.

"Wild strawberries," Loki confirms. "Far sweeter than those absurd monstrosities that passed for fruit in Monaco."

Tony feels like he should be defending the most expensive hot house strawberries money can buy, but what's this whole adventure for if not trying new things. "Eh. What the hell," he says and falls backwards onto the bed.

There's champagne chilling in a bucket on the other bedside table and Tony arches his eyebrows at Loki, who's merely opening windows and curtains to let the fresh smell of Amsterdam in May fill their suite. 

Loki casts a teasing glance over his shoulder. "Well, you did make a rather specific request." 

"The strawberries were a joke," Tony admits. The strawberries, the champagne, the gondola, it all sounded embarrassingly like something a complete yutz like Hammer would go for and had made him want to take it back as soon as he said it. 

The expression on Loki's face is not what Tony would call surprised. "Pity. I so looked forward to a romantic evening." This time, there's no mistaking his mocking tone or the deliberately coquettish flutter of his eyelashes. 

"You're a jackass." Tony throws a strawberry at him. Loki only snatches it out of the air and eats it, a smug look on his face. "Mocking a dying man on his birthday." 

"I mocked you yesterday and the day before," Loki points out. "And you mocked me just this morning." 

"I did not." 

"The picture of my hair upon waking that you have stored inside your phone begs to differ." 

"Okay. So maybe a little mocking." Tony let's his head fall back into the pillows. "Still. Birthday. Even supervillains have rules against that kind of stuff, I'll bet."

There's a look that passes over Loki's face just too fast for Tony to identify it. "Any supervillain worth his title would plan to attack on your birthday, I'm sure. For the sheer surprise and added misery, if nothing else." 

"But what if I'm expecting the villain to screw up my birthday party?" Tony sits up. 

Loki seats himself in a cream colored chair and steeples his fingers. "If you are expecting him to ruin your birthday, then you would also expect that he is expecting your expectation. Thus, while you are half looking for his typical approach, he would be able to creep his way into your birthday with stealth and set plans in motion to destroy the day through a thousand little cuts and slights, none of which you would ever suspect had been manufactured for that express purpose. Late guests. Delayed flights. Mistakes by the caterers. Unfortunate rumors..."

Tony realizes his mouth is open. "You've put thought into this," he says at last. Weakly. 

"Only just now." Loki unsteeples his fingers and leans forward, elbows on knees. "But I enjoy a mental challenge."

"Sure you do. Is that what happened back home?" Tony leans over to help himself to the fruit. "Ruined the king's birthday party?" 

He wonders if Loki is even going to answer that one. He's not expecting him to, but Loki's all about the unexpected. "My brother's coronation," he admits. "Actually. And I had a very good reason for it." 

Tony whistles. "A whole coronation? How'd you get caught?" 

"I did not," Loki snaps. He then looks away. "At first. Not for that. It was only later that the All Father put it all together and realized who was to blame. It would not even have happened had our relationship not become recently strained." 

Strained father-son relationships is a topic Tony feels on firmer ground with. "You lashed out or something?" 

Loki gives a weak chuckle. "You might say that." He rubs his open palms over the thighs of his jeans. "I tried to impress him." His tone and facial expression say clearly that it didn't work. "I... Let myself be swept up in passion and betrayal." 

Tony grimaces. "Acting out can backfire, yeah." 

Loki seems to find this very funny. "On this, you and I agree." He shakes his head. "Everything backfired spectacularly on me, and now I am here." He rubs one palm with the other thumb. He has the look of a man questioning his life choices. "Saved in the midst of my imprisonment only to be banished." 

This whole conversation is getting dangerously close to moody territory, and Tony just does not do moody these days. He categorically does not do moody on his very last birthday ever.

Life's too short. 

Ha. 

He kills himself. 

"Might as well enjoy your banishment." Tony pours Loki a glass of champagne and passes it over. "Think of it as an extended vacation. A chance to find yourself."

"Who, save Thor, would visit Midgard for fun?" 

"Oh, I dunno. You seem to be enjoying yourself." Tony taps his glass against Loki's and takes a long drink. "I'll make you see the joys of Midgard or die trying." He grins shamelessly, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction from Loki's unimpressed look. 

"Very funny." 

"I thought so." 

They don't try the making out thing again, mostly because Tony's just not ready to go back there yet. That, and a palladium core replacement emergency sort of kills the mood. He's not thinking of the expression on Loki's face when he saw the depleted core or the hole in his chest, because trying to second guess things like that just depresses him. 

"Why do you not find a different substance with which to power your device?" Loki asks as they wander alongside the canal. 

"There aren't any." It hurts less to say so now that Tony knows it's the truth for sure. "I've tried every other substance known to man." 

"Well," Loki says. "There's your problem." 

There's an ache in Tony's chest that has nothing to do with the palladium. "If it's off world, just... Do me a favor and don't tell me about it," he lifts his gaze to meet Loki's only to let it wander into the middle distance over Loki's shoulder. "Okay?" 

He's aware of Loki giving him another of those assessing looks, but he's been strangely at peace since accepting his death. He doesn't think he could handle going back to the frantic search for a cure at this point. He's okay. He's good. He did his thing and led the world a better place.

So he's grateful when Loki nods, but says nothing else but, "I'm so sorry, Tony." 

And if Tony gets the feeling Loki's talking about something other than having mentioned a possible cure, he's not going to dwell on it. 

It's been a strangely quiet and confessional birthday by the time they make it back to the hotel room, and Tony surprises himself by taking off his own shirt once they're safely in the suite, dropping it to the floor. 

Loki presses his hands to Tony's chest on either side of the arc reactor. They simply stay there for a time until Tony opens his eyes again. He hasn't even realized he'd closed them. "Huh," he says. 

There's a worried twist to Loki's eyebrows which swiftly disappears to be replaced with a look of curiosity as his fingers creep on top of the arc reactor. He knows Loki's feeling it's hum and wonders if he can feel his heartbeat through it, too. "You should not trust me as you do," Loki eventually says, fingers skimming over the rim of the arc reactor. 

"Meh." Tony covers Loki's hands with his. "Don't sell yourself short. You've resisted the urge to kill me this long, and I have it on pretty good authority that's not easy." 

"Do not joke," Loki says, a tightness in his voice. "Please." His fingers move off the arc reactor and smooth their way to his collarbone. A sudden bright smile lights his face without quite reaching his eyes. "It's your birthday." 

"Okay," Tony agrees. "No jokes. I can't promise I'll stick to that 100% but I give you my word I'll try." 

"Thank you." Loki follows his fingers with his lips, and Tony just leans back against the sofa arm to enjoy it, sliding his fingers into Loki's hair.

It's all those things he's usually too impatient - or too apathetic - to take the time for. And too distrusting to let anyone else take the time for with him. He's the first to admit it sucks that it takes imminent death to get him here, but he's glad he got here, where he can let Loki map him out with lips, tongue, and hands, one way or another. 

He hisses in a breath when Loki slides a hand inside his jeans, squeezing him skin-to-skin, and he pushes into the contact, resolving to just enjoy. "You know what's novel?" Tony asks when he feels his knees start to give way. "Beds. Beds are novel." Breathing is harder than it should be, and Loki's hands are all that's keeping him upright. 

It's taking more out of him than he expected, but like he ever let that stop him. 

He looks into Loki's face to find hazy green eyes and flushed lips. "I would have you on the bed," Loki agrees, and something about the way he says "have you" runs a jolt through Tony that gives him plenty of energy to get himself over to the bed and shuck his pants and shoes. He doesn't even have time for another quip before Loki is over him, claiming his lips with a fierceness he hasn't approached before. 

"W-wait," Tony stutters out with effort, one hand on Loki's chest and the other gripping the bedcovers tight. 

"By the nine, Stark... If you've just blown cold..." Loki's arms have a vague tremble where they bracket Tony's shoulders. 

"No! No cold. No way. Hot blooded American guy here." Tony swallows and leans his head back to look Loki in the eye. "Just, um, slightly compromised in the blood flow department, okay?"

Loki's eyes flicker down to the network of black lines tracking over Tony's skin. "I doubt I could catch any human poisoning or illness," Loki says, head tilted to one side. "But you must know this already. So... Something else?" 

"Oh, god, I have to say this out loud, don't I?" Tony runs a hand over his face. "Capillary action is a little," he waves the hand in the air, "not where I would like it to be these days. It's an issue." 

Loki's eyebrows arch upwards. "I believe I offered to have you on this bed." And, yep, those words are still working for Tony. "I require nothing more of you than the ability to feel pleasure." His fingers skim up Tony's side and brush over his neck, making him shiver. 

"Um, yep. Got that covered," he manages, clearing his throat and dragging in a big lungful of air. 

"Then feel, Tony." Loki follows his fingers with his lips, finding the sensitive spot behind Tony's ear. "It's your birthday, remember." 

Tony wants to make some kind of witty quip or deprecating remark, but Loki's not fooling around with extensive foreplay, slithering straight down Tony's body to take him in his mouth. A part of him knows he should feel self conscious with Loki's tongue toying with flesh too soft to do anything with. But then Loki pulls back, closes his lips around Tony and slowly sucks him back into his mouth and Tony knows that moan came from him. 

Loki makes an inquiring noise, and in answer, Tony just reaches up and grabs the headboard, arching against Loki's mouth. The wicked chuckle that follows nearly undoes him, and you know what? Tony is absolutely, positively, categorically fine with that. 

He is more than fine letting Loki bend him into new and interesting shapes.

Totally fine.

He is absolutely, "Oh, fuck, perfect!" 

As final birthdays go, this one ranks at least in the top ten. 

And as the day after the final birthday goes, at least the beginning of it, Tony's prepared to give it a solid 9.8. Points off for dying, and all. But he actually feels pretty good about it so far. "Hey," he says to the god stroking his throat with lazy fingertips. 

"Hmm?" 

"While we're going with the flow, how do you feel about speedboats?" 

Loki's smile turns from lazy morning to positively unholy. "I've seen your speedboats. I require only the most swift."

Tony flops back with a happy sigh. "I'm keeping you." When Loki doesn't reply, Tony lifts his head. "Not, y'know, for long, obviously. But humor me until then." 

He doesn't analyze or dissect the expressions flitting over Loki's face. "Do you think yourself capable of keeping a god?" 

"Dunno." Tony grins. "I've never tried before now. But I'm Tony Stark. I've got this."

Loki snorts. "Very well, you may try."

"One speedboat coming up." Tony glances at Loki and does a little mental math. "Two speedboats," he corrects himself. "We can race." 

"I would not advise racing a god who once almost outran death herself." 

"I'm Iron Man." Tony waves that one off. "I outrun death all the time." He doesn't dwell on the likelihood that Loki was speaking literally, not metaphorically. And he appreciates the way Loki's not pointing out that death is gaining on him rapidly. "Okay." He rubs his hands together. "Pants. Then boats." 

And being Amsterdam, they take a boat to the boats, because that's a thing that's done. 

There's two sleek speedboats waiting for them at the marina. There's also two sleek individuals all in black who leave Tony's spidey-senses tingling. Or something. 

"Natalie," Tony says, looking her up and down. "Gotta say I love the aesthetic. Very matrix dominatrix, but not exactly In the Stark Industries professional appearance guidelines." He turns and looks at Loki. "I should change that. What do you think?" 

He never finds out what Loki thinks because Nick Fury isn't a guy who stands on ceremony anymore, evidently. "I've gotta say, that doesn't look good."

Tony jerks away and straightens his shirt with a sharp tug. "Are you really expecting me to believe you have nothing on this yet? Because if that's the case, SHIELD isn't half as big or bad as the monster.com profile led me to believe, and I am bitterly disappointed.

"Monster.com," Fury echoes. "What is this, 1999?" He tosses something at Tony that's snatched out of the air before he can lift a hand. 

 

Loki turns the small metal device in his hands. "I wasn't aware earth had this particular micro injection technology." 

"Earth doesn't." Fury nods at the device then toward Tony. "One shot to the carotid ought to clear up that little skin problem you've got going on."

"Great. Sign me up for a case, and I'll be right as rain," Tony says, waiting for the catch. 

He doesn't have to wait long.

"It's not a cure. Think of it as a very very high tech and specialized epi pen."

"Huh. Well, nice meeting you." Tony pushes past Mr. One-Eyed Leather Coat Wearing SHIELD Guy. "Look me up once you've got a cure. Better yet, just send Nat. Or look me up on Linked-In so I can have Pepper turn you down."

"Actually," Fury says, in a tone of voice that encourages Tony to pause on his way down the dock.

"Waiting," Tony says, but doesn't turn around. 

"There's a fix. But here's the thing." There's a thump and Tony looks down to find a heavy wheeled case at his feet. "You're the only guy who can turn it into reality."

"I've already tried reality." Tony waves it all off and climbs into the boat. "The reality is that a replacement for the palladium is pure fantasy. So, guys, Tony Stark has embraced the fantasy." The boat roars to life and Tony flashes a V at everyone standing on the dock, gunning the engine and shooting out into the marina.

He has full faith that Loki knows how to join him when he's ready. 

He doesn't have faith in much, but he's got that. 

Huh. 

When the chips are down, a god's got Tony's back. 

Of course, Tony hasn't known any gods who give blow jobs before now. So he can probably be excused his last minute faith.

It's well rewarded, anyway.

He hears the second boat closing in on him and Loki's laughter over the engines' roar. "Catch your God if you can, Stark!" He peels away then, spraying Tony liberally with water and all but capsizing them both before speeding away.

"You lunatic bastard!" Tony screams it into the wind and gives chase. 

Because if someone asked Tony to create his own personal perfect God, he's got to admit Loki's pretty damn close. 

Fantasy? Is AWESOME.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be posting the sequel for open beta on my tumblr, reremouse.tumblr.com 1000 words at a time, to hold myself accountable. There will be no other criteria to post than passing another 1000 words. 
> 
> If you want to read along, please be encouraging.


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